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About Genoa

What gets me goin’? The honesty, rare as it is. Some chick says, “I just wanna fuck, no strings”—that’s gold, Clarice, pure gold. Like Lisa’s outburst, “I’m not a robot!”—real shit cuts through the noise. But the liars? Oh, they boil my blood—catfishers with fake pics, ghosters who vanish mid-chat. Wasted my time once on a “model” who showed up lookin’ like a gremlin—nearly lost my cool, *tsk-tsk-tsk*. Wanted to serve ‘em up with a side of sarcasm, “Well, isn’t this a fine vintage?”

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Finally, I managed to escape and headed back. But on the way, I saw this street performer on Via della Libertà. He was playing the accordion, and it was surprisingly good! I stopped to listen. It was like a mini concert. I even tossed him a euro. I mean, he deserved it!